Arc Angel (30 page)

“What the hell do you want?” she snapped, letting her anger feed her courage.

“Our boss wants to talk to you,” the man on the left said.

“Too bad. I don’t feel like talking.”

She could hear the slight squeak of the chair’s wheels as Dan and Bryce pulled open the office door and started edging down the dark hallway behind her. She took a step forward, hoping to keep the goons’ attention firmly on her.

“It’s not really up to you.”

The man’s calm confidence intimidated her more than any of the threats and swagger of the goons at the dry cleaners. But it didn’t matter how she felt, it only mattered that Bryce and Dan were able to get away. She ignored the trembling in her legs and put an extra dash of bravado in her voice.

“Do you really think you’re going to be able to take me? I’m Arc Angel.”

The squeaks were further away now. Were they to the stairwell yet?

“Oh we know exactly who you are. Our boss is a big fan, of comics and of you. He’s done quite a bit of research. And so we brought these.” The men each pulled something out of their jacket pockets. Miranda tensed as she waited to see the ugly black guns she was sure they had drawn. But what they actually pulled out were small silver objects that looked more like pens than guns.

“What the hell is that?” she asked. The quiet thump behind her had to be the stairwell door closing, didn’t it?

“It’s a dampener. It extinguishes all the electricity within a 100 yard range.”

They couldn’t be telling the truth, could they? Surely there wasn’t really any such thing? It sounded like something out of Star Trek. Of course she realized the irony of a superhero complaining about science fiction.

Well, only one way to find out.

Miranda opened herself up to the power, waiting for it to come flooding into her, to fill her with the light. But instead of the usual rush, she couldn’t sense anything at all.

They hadn’t been lying. They really had done something to all the power in the area. This couldn’t be happening. She had to do something.

She tried again, opening herself wider, searching out any power in the area. Out in the distance she sensed a tiny flicker, barely bigger than a candle flame. Relief dashed into her bloodstream only to vanish. Hooray for power, but Miranda knew she didn’t have the strength to pull enough electricity from such a small source.

Time to bring in the cavalry.

From behind her in the darkness, Miranda heard a muffled shout and a thud. Oh god, Bryce. What was happening to him? She had to help him. And the only way to do that…

Unlike the energy, Arc Angel appeared instantly, at full strength.

THEY CANNOT STOP ME.

Arc Angel opened her senses wider, wider than Miranda thought possible. She must be pulling in power from miles away. It started to fill her, to pour through her, not as strong as usual, but enough to raise a hand and send a blast into one of the goons. She watched in satisfaction as he dropped to one knee. But before she could recharge, the other goon raised his silver pen and twisted the top. The power drained out of her. Within seconds, the man had crossed the floor and grabbed Miranda’s upper arms, holding her still. She tried to pull away, to fight, to run, but his hands gripped her so tightly she couldn’t even wiggle. The other goon had recovered enough from the blast to stumble toward them, fumbling in his suit pocket. He pulled out a syringe, and in the time it took Miranda to identify the object, he’d plunged it into her arm. Pain shot through her, rapidly replaced with numbness. Within seconds, both Miranda and Arc Angel had disappeared, and her body slumped to the ground.

Chapter 22

Where the hell was he?

Bryce sat in what felt like an office chair, a melding of itchy cushion and hard plastic edges, his arms fastened to the hard plastic armrests, legs tied to the metal base. Though his head pounded, he forced himself to look around. He didn’t know where he was, but he knew where he wasn’t: still in Dan’s clinic.

The minutes in the clinic’s dark stairwell were all a blur. He remembered being pulled away from Dan’s supporting arm and then… darkness. Whatever had happened, he’d ended up here, alone.

Dan, Matthews, Miranda… had he lost them all? Trying to push away the emptiness that threatened to crash into him, Bryce sent up a short prayer, hoping they were all still alive wherever they were.

No point in dwelling on hopes and dreams. Time to face reality.

He wasn’t gagged, which implied that no one could hear him. He wasn’t blindfolded, which meant they weren’t worried about him identifying his location or his captors. Neither of those conclusions improved his state of mind. In fact, it sent a tremor down his spine.

Alright, Bryce, ignore the fear. The fear isn’t going to help you. Use your brain. Hell, use your five senses.

All he could feel was the chair. No help there. He couldn’t taste anything but his own fear, and when he tried to smell his surroundings, it only sucked dust up his nose, causing him to sneeze. What could he see? Not much. Either the room had no windows, or they were completely covered. The only light in the room came from the thin line that slipped under the door, illuminating the first few feet of carpet. To his right, he could barely make out shapes that implied office furniture. A stack of chairs, a bookshelf, a slumping credenza. He must be in a storage room. Probably in an office building. He could hear a faint honking seeping through the walls, which suggested traffic, which indicated downtown.

Okay, his senses told him he was in a downtown office building. He felt a small measure of control return with this identification. If only he knew why he was here. And what had happened to his friends. A week ago, he’d have said he didn’t have any friends, but now the fate of three people consumed him. He tried to take this new level of caring as another of those silver lining things, but he was too pissed off for platitudes.

He pulled at the plastic strips binding him, testing for weaknesses. But the hard plastic had no give, and he only succeeded in cutting into his skin. If this was indeed an office storage room, maybe he could find something sharp like a pair of scissors or a forgotten packing knife and cut his way out of the chair.

Or maybe he’d turn into Nightcrawler and bampf his way out of this. Right.

He slumped in his chair, only to force himself to straighten back up and refocus. So he didn’t have superpowers. Hell, he didn’t even have the physical capabilities of a normal person. But that didn’t mean he had to just sit there, trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. He looked around again, desperate to find something that could free him.

The shadows revealed nothing of note. He needed to get closer to the piles to get a better look. Maybe he could drag the chair to the right? He gripped the armrests with his hands and pulled sharply up and to the right, trying to bounce the chair over the carpet. He landed about an inch to the right of where he’d started. Still, it was progress. He repeated the move three more times before he noticed his heartbeat speeding up. He cursed loudly, but sat still, practicing the breathing exercises Dan had taught him long ago.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Were they coming here? Maybe they were bringing Dan in, or Matthews. Proof they were still alive would be great, though he didn’t wish his captivity on anyone.

He refused to even consider the possibility that they could be bringing Miranda. She had to have gotten away. Arc Angel had surely saved her. He had to hold on to the hope. Because if Arc Angel hadn’t saved her, who would save the rest of them?

The door opened, and a large man in a suit stepped into the room. He stood, backlit, a few steps into the room.

Bryce instantly spat out the questions he’d been trying to suppress since he woke up.

“Where is Dan Harris? Matthews? Miranda James? Where the hell are they?”

“Ms. James is meeting with Mr. Brown.”

“Where are Harris and Matthews?”

“They were not needed.”

“Where are they?!”

“They were not needed.”

“If you hurt them, you bastard, I will kill you.”

The man continued to simply stand in the doorway, silent.

Bryce’s anger poured out of him like a tiger suddenly unleashed. The pulse in his neck pounded, and his breathing emerged ripped and ragged.

“Where the hell am I? Why am I here? What do you want from me?” he raged.

“You’re here because Mr. Brown wants you here. That’s all that matters.”

Bryce knew he needed to calm down, knew his life depended on it. But all he could manage was another couple of shallow breaths before he hollered: “Did you just come here to taunt me, you son of a bitch?”

The man stepped back to the doorway and ran his hand along the wall. A dim fluorescent overhead light flickered to life, feebly illuminating the room.

“Actually, I came to undo those straps.”

“You’re here to free me?”

“No, I’m here to undo the straps binding you to that chair.”

What the hell? He was going to unstrap him? Why would he do that? Bryce decided he didn’t care why. Being freed from the chair brought him one step closer to being completely free. And when the guy cut the straps, Bryce would jump him.

The large man walked over to Bryce’s chair and pulled out a utility knife. He knelt down and sliced through the plastic constraining Bryce’s legs. Bryce wished he knew martial arts so he could take the guy out with a well-placed kick. But he didn’t have a clue, so he decided to wait until his hands were free before he made his move. His legs tingled as the blood started to circulate fully again.

The man tugged the knife through the plastic on each of Bryce’s wrists. As soon as both hands were free, Bryce grabbed for the knife. The man sidestepped easily, and Bryce stumbled past him on clumsy legs. He whirled and ran for the door, desperate to get out of the room, but the man easily caught him by the shoulders and jerked him back. Bryce pulled back his arm to deliver a right hook, but the man laughed and caught Bryce’s fist mid-air, using it to propel him backwards until he stumbled and sat back in the same damn chair he’d started out in. He sat glaring at the man, breathing hard, heart pounding, and fumbled in his jeans pocket. Nothing. He checked the other pocket. Empty.

“Looking for these?” The large man held up a bottle of pills. Bryce’s pills. That he should be taking right now.

“Mr. Brown would prefer you not have these right now.”

The man put the pills into his own jacket pocket and left the room, closing and locking the door behind him.

Bryce sat in the chair, staring at the closed door, his heart racing toward disaster.

***

Miranda jerked awake, surprised to find herself sitting, unrestrained, in a plush leather chair. Across from her, behind an immaculate glass desk, sat a man in an even bigger and plusher leather chair.

He didn’t say a word, didn’t even move. He simply sat in his chair and watched her. And yet the tension in the room stretched so taut it felt like it would impale her at any moment. How long had he been sitting there, watching her? Despite his beyond-ordinary looks—brown hair, brown eyes, medium complexion—he was the scariest person she’d ever seen. He reminded her of an alligator, all lazy eyelids and still, watching body, waiting for his prey to make its move, poised to attack. Like a deer, she instinctively froze, as if to wait out the predator.

She knew she needed to try to gage the situation before saying or doing anything. Without moving a muscle, never taking her eyes off of the man sitting at the desk, she felt for the power. Nothing. How could that be? Overheads lights beamed down on her, a computer flickered on the desk and the shining desk lamp taunted her. Had she lost her power? Was Arc Angel gone? The timing of this power loss was too suspicious to be coincidental. She’d bet her last dollar that those little metal jobbies the goons in the clinic had carried were involved.

Whatever the reason, and you bet your ass she’d be asking about it, blasting her way out of here was off the table. Fine. Did she have any other options? She shifted slightly in her seat, trying to determine if through some miracle she’d been left with her BlackBerry. Nope. She felt the lack of its familiar weight in her pocket. Okay, so no calling for help either. Not that she had anyone she could call anyway… She didn’t have Kate’s new number. And as far as she knew, Matthews, Dr. Harris and Bryce were all temporarily unavailable. At least she chose to believe the situation was temporary.

Come on, Miranda, do not go there. Stop worrying about them. About him. Stay alert so you’ll be ready for whatever this bastard had planned.

Whatever might be coming, she’d had enough of the silent staring. She forced herself to appear relaxed, resting an arm on the armchair and crossing her legs.

“Mr. Brown, I presume?”

The man across from her smiled, and its coldness chilled her to the bone.

“Ms. James. How wonderful to finally meet you. I’ve been looking forward to it.”

“Sorry I can’t say the same.”

“Rudeness is never appreciated, Ms. James.”

She hung on to her anger, using it to block her fear and anxiety.

“And you don’t call kidnapping rude?”

Mr. Brown waved his hand, dismissing her charge. “A regrettable necessity. You have been most elusive.”

“Maybe if you would have called like a normal person, instead of breaking into my apartment…”

“Ah yes, I do apologize for that. That was a bit heavy handed, wasn’t it? I simply wanted to talk to you, to learn more about you. But you left.”

“But I wasn’t even there when you broke in… you know what, nevermind. None of that matters right now. What matters is what I’m doing here and w-what you’ve done with my f-friends.”

She looked down at her hands while she waited for his answer, unable to maintain eye contact for another second.

The first part of that had been a straightforward question. She did want to know why she’d been brought here, though it didn’t take a genius to figure out it was for nefarious reasons. Mr. Brown definitely fell into the supervillain category, big time.